“You wanted a kiss,” she says, stepping in until her bare tits brush against my chest. I groan, fighting the urge to touch her. Instead, I grip tighter to my wrists. “Yes,” I say on a breath. She brushes against me with her sun-warmed skin until I’m pressed up against the doorjamb. She lifts her hand, two fingers trailing up my sternum before she cups my cheek. “One kiss,” she whispers. “Just one,” I repeat, bending down to breathe her in. She smells like suntan lotion and sea salt and some kind of coconutty shampoo.
